


Not If I Can Help It

by ibreathethroughwords



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Blaster Recoil, Crew as Family, Gen, Gun Discipline, Guns, Humor, Kallus Feels, Kallus and Rex Train the Rebel Army, Learning how to shoot, Post-Episode: s03e21-22 Zero Hour, Shooting Guns, Shooting Range, Weird Facts About Blasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibreathethroughwords/pseuds/ibreathethroughwords
Summary: In the midst of the stunned silence, he took another bite of his food and looked down at his tray. It was the closest he was willing to come to admitting he gave a damn about the rebels, and these idiots in particular. They were his idiots now, and he'd chased them all over the damn galaxy trying to arrest them only to be saved by them instead.So they weren't allowed to die for stupid reasons that he could fix.





	Not If I Can Help It

Fire fights were, by their very nature, messy. Most of his career had involved fire fights with large numbers of people on each side, or all the sides. His younger subordinates were often shocked when taken to task after everything had been sorted out and reports filed and made in person for their poor combat skills (or commended for excellent ones) that Kallus could and did keep track of how his own people were doing in combat situations. Those he worked with regularly or with whom he was stuck on a long-term assignment he would make sure were up to snuff: he refused to die or have his career tarnished through the incompetence of others. Besides, the less people who died on his side while he was in command, the better.1

That skill didn't magically deteriorate because he defected: no, if anything, Kallus honed it. He spent five weeks stuck on Yavin IV being debriefed and had nothing else to do besides help Rex drill and train new recruits and soldiers. It felt good to be useful, it felt good to do everything in his power to keep these people alive that he'd risked his life for, and okay, yes, it felt good to take his frustration with the tedious and repetitive debriefing process out on something. The rebellion needed all the help they could get and Rex was more than willing to testify that Kallus was excellent in combat and certainly knew what he was doing. He'd beaten Zeb before, could probably do it again (might just for the hell of it, whenever the _Ghost_ and her crew came back from their latest assignment), and had a - frankly - outstanding record.

They'd let him lose him the shooting range later that afternoon under heavy guard. When they'd been shocked by his aim, Kallus knew they had a problem. 

He expressed his concern to Rex over dinner that evening. At least he understood. Agreed, even. Who the hell let these kids near weapons?

Kallus spent a few minutes after his debriefing requesting to see how they were training their soldiers to shoot. If he'd impressed them using weapons he wasn't that fond of using, he figured he might as well see which soldiers were most likely to kill him in a friendly fire incident, and said as much to the Rebel Intelligence Officers that had been badgering him about his crash landing on Bahryn with Zeb for the last four days. There were only so many ways he could say, "It was really cold but then he gave me this warm meteor and was nice to me, and that was the catalyst for me asking hard questions and becoming a rebel spy."

Any of them were probably likely to kill him, it turned out, including the instructors. He spent dinner that night numbly eating his food and shaking his head. This rebellion was doomed with blaster discipline like that! Who the hell had taught any of them to hold a blaster? Their trigger discipline was awful and they weren't accounting for recoil at all!2

"I can't believe you're letting them shoot blasters," he grumbled at Rex after swallowing a mouthful of whatever leaves he'd been given.

"That bad?"

Kallus raised an eyebrow. "You've either willfully blinded yourself to stay sane, or you're going blind. Please don't tell me which it is: ignorance, as they say, is bliss."

Rex laughed. "Okay, I know. It's bad. The weapons they're using are really old and the soldiers we have are really young. Not the best combination. The instructors are rushing through too, so I've no idea what all is being left out."

"Neither side can hit the other because the stormtroopers can't see out of their helmets and our troops haven't any idea how to hold a blaster to account for recoil or to control a rifle," Kallus sneered. "It's the worst of both worlds. I can't win no matter which side I'm on. No one in this galaxy can hit a target."

"Except us," Rex said with a grin, like he was utterly enjoying Kallus's pain.

Kallus nodded. Old war veterans had the right to be assholes, he supposed. At least Rex was good company. "Yes."

\---

Rex was the worst old man he'd ever met - after Tarkin, of course, may his hairline rest in peace - and Kallus was determined never speak to anyone again unless he had to. He had to speak to these soldiers, and after putting him through the ringer a final time (Onderon, for the ninth time, because why not put a man on edge and then send him to talk about blasters?) they'd stuck him in a captain's uniform and tasked him with teaching or re-teaching the instructors and squad leaders how to shoot. The instructors were not happy about some former Imperial-something gathering them to teach them what they thought they knew, but they respected Rex, so Kallus had forced Rex to come along as backup. 

Kallus was pleasantly surprised to see he outranked all the instructors. He kept them at attention for a good, long moment and looked them over because he could, then ordered them at ease. Approaching this as he would a seminar with the Imperial Officers Corps wouldn't go well and, anyway, Kallus wasn't one of them anymore. "I know we're pressed for time in getting people trained," he began, filling his voice with confidence he didn't quite feel. Had he earned the right to speak in front of these people? Hell, he didn't know. But they needed to hear this. _Fake it 'til you make it._ Someone had said that to him before. It seemed like good advice.

"Sometimes training has to be rushed, or done 'on the fly'; however, there are some things being left out that could very easily get any of us killed. You've been summoned here today to correct that. I've been observing training sessions around my debriefings with Command, and there's one thing in particular that's an issue."

Hoping he wouldn't be shot for it, that being on the firing range was a massive enough clue to their objective, Kallus slowly and deliberately pulled his blaster from its holster. He held it up so it was visible to all, and so that they could see his finger was nowhere near the trigger. Some flinched, but he wasn't shot at (like they would have hit him anyway). Another day, another victory. Many of them looked suspicious, however, so he chose his next words at least a little carefully. "Blasters have recoil. Blaster rifles have recoil. Small blasters have recoil. Accounting for it is utterly critical in hitting the target correctly on the first shot.

"I'll demonstrate, firing it as I've seen done in classes here, and generally while fired at me before my defection. Please watch the front end of the barrel."

Kallus fired a few shots, holding the gun differently each time, before taking hold of it properly and firing at the target. The shot went off perfectly, and hit it dead center. He holstered the blaster before he turned back around. Rex looked impressed, probably that Kallus had pulled out his blaster and no one had killed him. They'd talked about that beforehand, and now Rex owed him 100 credits.

He drilled the assembled leaders with questions then, asking who had seen the difference, what it was, why recoil happened at all. It ended up as somewhat of a physics lesson, and he was asked demonstrate again, first with his blaster, then another model, then a rifle. Kallus then showed them how to properly counter the recoil, adjust their stances for the bipedal amongst them, and set them loose on the range for he and Rex to watch and correct. A couple of them needed extra help. Holding the gun up as high as possible and covering as much of it as possible need to be shown again, or alternate holds suggested for different bone structures, but over all, Kallus was feeling pleased with himself.3

Before dismissing the instructors and squad leaders, they were given a schedule for the firing range for the next four weeks: all personnel were to have improved by then. 

Kallus felt rather proud of himself by the time he'd changed out of his sweaty uniform and joined Rex in the mess hall with the rest of the _Ghost's_.

"When did you get in?" he asked, sitting next to Zeb and swatting Ezra's hand away from the fruit on his tray in the same move. The boy swore and pulled his hand back. 

"Just in time to find out that we're grounded for three days for firing practice and it's entirely your fault!" Ezra grumbled, glaring at him. "What the heck did you do while we were gone?"

What an ungrateful attitude to have. Just for that, Kallus bit into the piece of fruit Ezra had tried to steal off his tray, making eye contact while he chewed. When the kid scowled at him, the newly minted captain smirked. "Probably saved a lot of lives. None of you know how to hold a blaster correctly except for Zeb and Rex. I'm honestly shocked you haven't killed each other or every civilian you've tried to save."2

Ah, a table full of glares. That was much more normal. Kallus took another bite and ignored the malicious looks directed his way. Zeb and Rex weren't giving him any, so that was fine, and Chopper was chortling. "Don't look at me like that," he continued after he swallowed. "You control the recoil on your blasters so poorly you shoot like junior cadets. I once arrested an armless politician who was a better shot."

He'd been able to wrap his entire prehensile tail around it and use the tip to squeeze the trigger, but that was neither here nor there. 

"You're the meanest ex-agent in the entire galaxy," Ezra bitched at him.

Zeb laughed. "You're whining like a child."

"I'm not saying it to be cruel, Ezra," Kallus said, using his name instead of calling him Jabba as he normally would under non-life-threatening circumstances. "I'm saying it because being able to actually hit your target on the first could save your life. Any of your lives." He glanced down the table at the rest of them. "It could save all of your lives. I didn't nearly die so you could not shoot somebody correctly and then get us all killed as a result."

In the midst of the stunned silence, he took another bite of his food and looked down at his tray. It was the closest he was willing to come to admitting he gave a damn about the rebels, and these idiots in particular. They were his idiots now, and he'd chased them all over the damn galaxy trying to arrest them only to be saved by them instead. 

So they weren't allowed to die for stupid reasons that he could fix.

Zeb wrapped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him into a one-armed hug, and there was no more argument. Conversation returned to normal things, and Kallus breathed out a sigh of relief as he finished his food. Everything was fine for now, and Rex didn't mention his commission as an officer. Kallus figured that was a surprise best left for another day.

Like tomorrow morning.

They parted ways that night, because Kallus was still assigned to the temple, with him promising to meet them outside their ship in the morning for the assigned training with their new instructor. He kept it vague as he waved goodnight, and when he showed up in full uniform the next morning, rank insignia glinting in the morning sun, the way Ezra's jaw dropped was worth the wait.

"Let's get to work," he greeted them, not comment at all on their reactions.

From behind him, where Rex watched in the shadows of the hangar bay, laughter rang out as Ezra's only response was, "They made you a _captain_ 4?"

**Author's Note:**

> 1: Read _Star Wars Rebels: The Rebellion Begins_ by Michael Kogge to get a good idea of how thorough he gets? Like shit. He'd make a good FBI profiler here.  
>  2: [There was a tumblr discussion about this.](https://tmblr.co/ZK8kYx2Kxtn5l)  
> 3: [Handgun grip](https://youtu.be/azAZC-tuGac). [Hangun stances.](https://youtu.be/29IVfkJ9JYo) [Rifle grip.](https://youtu.be/59R8eOCNwhk)  
> 4: [Probably not what you're expecting.](http://thebestblogeverofalltime.tumblr.com/image/159629110102)


End file.
